


sit in silence

by boyfriem



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Light Angst, Minor Violence, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Zalluto Zoldyck, Trans Character, also leorio IS trans. not just in this fic but in general, illumi is a bad brother! that is all!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 08:07:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18634177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boyfriem/pseuds/boyfriem
Summary: “That’s really...wow,” Leorio settles on as he hands back the paper chain. “You’re really talented, Kalluto.”Are they? No one’s ever told them that before. Mother has always liked their art, but not in an appreciative way. It’s more that she expects them to make things for her and is pleased when they follow through. And when they’d told Illumi that they had come up with a nen ability, he hadn’t even looked at the dolls. All he said was,It’s about time.aka Leorio meets Kalluto on the boat through some unfortunate circumstances and goes full dadmode on them.





	sit in silence

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this entire thing in my phone notes while at the beach >:3c is this gay culture
> 
> umm also i didn't have a good title and my brother was playing 21 pilots songs for like the entire time i was editing this fic and now i have car radio stuck in my head so :/ u know how it is

Kalluto has never felt this before. Their vision is blurry, legs wobbly, every breath they take feels like what it must be like to breathe in poison, sharp and painful and not _enough_. They’re dying, they’re sure of it. They’re bleeding from their chest, their leg, their shoulder, everywhere, and none of the injuries are fatal on their own but they’re not an idiot, they know how much blood a person can live on and they know they’re inching dangerously close to losing an irreparable amount. Every bone in their body is telling them to run, to get out of there while they still can, and they’re trying but it’s not enough. They got in a few decent blows on the man chasing them but even now he’s bigger and faster than them and maybe if they hadn’t run away from Illumi, maybe if they hadn’t insisted on taking this job, maybe if they’d never even joined the Phantom Troupe in the first place,

  
“Caught you,” the man snarls in their ear, and they’re yanked back by the collar of their kimono. He throws them against the wall, hand pressed against their throat. They still don’t know what his ability is but whatever it is it’s not gonna matter, there’s no way they could fight back like this. They can taste their own blood, metallic and warm and absolutely foul, and as they fight to keep their eyes open they focus on the taste. Anything to anchor themselves to life because they know they’re gonna die but they don’t want to.

  
They’re scared, as much as they hate that word. Zoldycks don’t _get_ scared.

  
But when they die, what’s gonna be left? They still haven’t found Killua, they’re still the weakest member of the phantom troupe, they still haven’t done all the things they always wanted to do, become a hunter and show Killua their origami and go out in public without adult supervision, there’s so much they haven’t done and they said they would accomplish their goals no matter what and the what can’t involve dying, they’re not finished here-

  
“Hey!” a voice yells. Kalluto registers it dimly, though it echoes through their head like the speaker is impossibly far away. “What’s going on here?”

  
The hand around their throat loosens, and they force themselves to keep their eyes open, to keep standing though their legs are threatening to stop working entirely. The man who caught them is now staring at another man, watching them from down the hall. Kalluto watches as he approaches the bystander and grabs him by the head, twisting his neck with a sickening crack.

  
This is their chance, while he’s still over there, back turned to them. It’s the only one they’re gonna get. No matter how injured they are, no matter how much their brain is telling them to give up, accept their defeat, die with their honor still intact — they can’t possibly listen. They wanna live, goddammit. They want it more than they’ve ever wanted anything.

  
Their body moves on its own, weak legs dashing forward, sharpened fingers reaching out. The man is injured, his reaction time slowed as Kalluto snatches his heart from his chest. They hold it, still beating, in bloodied fingers, too exhausted to even worry about how unsanitary it is. The man falls forward onto the ground, blood pooling from the fresh wound.

  
They did it. They won. They survived.

  
It’s then that their legs give out and they topple forward onto the floor, unable to keep their eyes from drifting shut. The last thing they remember is the heartbeat in their hand slowing to a stop.

 

  
They drift in and out of consciousness. There’s noise, people talking, shouting, short snippets of conversations, words they don’t understand, languages they don’t speak. The air smells of antiseptic and underneath that, blood and sickness. The people here are miserable, they’re dying, they’re afraid. Kalluto has no idea where they are. They don’t even have the strength to open their eyes. They can feel a needle in their arm and a stiff pillow under their head — some sort of hospital, probably. They don’t like hospitals.

  
  
“Hey, you’re awake!”

  
Kalluto is looking up at the ceiling of the boat, flickering fluorescent lights and an overly smooth, white surface.

  
They turn their head to the side slowly — it hurts to move. Everything hurts. Their body aches, their eyes burn, their throat feels like it’s stuffed with cotton.   
An older girl, maybe Killua’s age, is watching them curiously. She smiles widely when she sees them looking at her. She’s missing a front tooth.

  
“I’m gonna go get Mr. Leorio,” she says. Her voice is too loud — it rings in Kalluto’s ears. “Don’t fall back asleep!”

  
She stands up and bounces away, leaving them alone. Mr. Leorio... they know that name, how do they know that name?

  
Whatever. They’re leaving, anyway: They assume that if they’re in the boat’s infirmary they must be injured somewhat seriously, but they don’t plan to stick around here. As long as they’re conscious they’ll be able to get out, and once they get back to their cabin and find Illumi everything will be fine. Zoldycks heal fast, after all — however serious their injuries are they’re sure that they’ll be gone in a week or two.

  
But their attempt to sit up is met with a jarring pain in their abdomen, harsh enough that even with their superior pain tolerance the room spins in front of their eyes. They take a couple of deep breaths, clutching the sheets of the hospital bed in clenched fists.

  
_Okay, Kalluto, let’s try this again._

  
They lean forward a bit and _nope_ , no way, they’re not moving. At least they’ve managed to sit up. That’s an accomplishment, right?

  
They lean against the headboard, moving their fingers experimentally. They clench and unclench their left hand a couple of times, able to that, at least, without much pain.

  
Illumi always says that the most important thing to do when you’re in an unfamiliar situation and you can’t see an immediate way out is to take note of your surroundings. No matter what, stay calm, observe as many details as you can, and try to learn what’s happening.

  
The details here are the scratchy hospital bed sheets lying like a weight on top of their body; the three IVs hooked up to their right arm, each tube connecting to different bag, all hanging from the same metal stand; the people everywhere — some nurses and doctors but mostly patients, crowded into every available corner, waiting to be treated; the loose, papery hospital gown that’s clearly not meant for a child, slipping off their shoulders without them even moving-

  
Wait.

  
It’s obvious in hindsight that they wouldn’t be wearing their kimono, but if they don’t have it then where is it? The idea of it crumpled up somewhere, in a lost and found bin or even in the garbage, discarded like common trash — it wouldn’t just get thrown away, right?

  
In their panic, Kalluto attempts to stand up, their reflexes outweighing their logic, and they get one leg on the floor before the pain comes back — burning pain in their legs and back and nausea clawing up their throat and black spots swimming in front of their eyes — and they crumple out of the bed and onto the floor, gasping for air, eyes watering.

  
“Hey,” a faraway voice says, “Hey, don’t faint again. Here, let’s get you up...”

  
Next thing they know, a pair of soft, strong arms is scooping them up like they weigh nothing and depositing them back on the mattress. They squeeze their eyes shut, blocking out the unbearably fierce lights as the stranger pulls their blankets over them and tucks them in, an unexpectedly kind gesture that they don’t have the energy to refuse.

  
“There we go,” the stranger says, voice still sounding faint and tinny, “You okay?” a hand rests gently on Kalluto’s shoulder, sending pins and needles down their arm. “Hey, kid, you alright there?”

  
“Mmm,” Kalluto tries to answer, but barely any sound comes out. Slowly, squinting as their eyes adjust — why is it so bright in here — they open their eyes and get a good look at the stranger’s face.

  
It’s a man — Illumi’s age? younger? — a tired, disheveled man with stubble blooming on his chin and dark circles under his eyes, a man that Kalluto _knows_.   
_Leorio_. So that’s where they remembered him from.  

  
“You,” they hiss venomously, though their voice comes out scratchy and pained and not frightening in the least.

  
“Ah,” Leorio sighs, “so you remember me too.”  

  
As if they could forget. He looks different now, older, more tired, but that doesn’t matter. He’s still the same man who took Killua away from them, him and his friends. He has no right to be standing here now, looking at them like he didn’t steal their brother like they were undeserving of his company.   
“You okay?” he asks. How dare he be concerned. Filthy outsider, thief, _kidnapper_ -

  
“Fuck you,” they snarl. They picked up the phrase from Phinks, and Illumi slapped them when he heard them say it, which must mean it’s really bad. Well, Illumi’s not here to stop them now, and it has the intended effect because Leorio’s eyes widen.

  
“Who taught you that sort of language?”

  
“My friend,” they answer, proud of themselves for getting a reaction from Leorio.

  
“Sounds like you need better friends,” he mutters.

  
They very suddenly don’t wanna be talking about this anymore. “Where’s my kimono?” they ask in an attempt to change the subject.

  
“What?”

  
“My kimono,” they repeat, patience wearing thin. “I need it.”

  
“Um,” Leorio frowns, “I’ll have to ask my boss what she did with it. I’m sure she didn’t throw it away-”

  
“Can you do that now?” Kalluto demands. Their head aches from being forced to engage in conversation and only their inability to move is keeping them from ripping Leorio’s tongue from his throat so that he can’t talk.

  
“You’re just like Killua,” he grumbles. Kalluto knows it’s not meant to be a compliment, but they smile a little bit despite themselves. They’re used to being compared to Illumi, quiet and focused and loyal, but never Killua. Even when Mother and Illumi praise them, it’s nothing compared to their favorite brother.   
They’re lucky, really. They’re not at the bottom of the family food chain, and that they should be grateful for. But they’re nowhere near the top, either.   
Leorio stands up without a goodbye and returns a few minutes later with a pile of fabric that’s supposed to be their kimono. But...

  
It’s torn and bloodstained and as they grab it, searching through it frantically, ignoring the spike in intensity of their headache, they find themselves mourning the loss of the garment.

It was their favorite piece of clothing. Mother had it made especially for them, and the first time they wore it Killua told them they looked very pretty, and they’d spent the rest of the day struggling to keep themselves from smiling (smiling is unbecoming of a Zoldyck, after all, no matter how happy they are).   
And now it’s destroyed, unwearable, torn to pieces because of their carelessness, because they didn’t bother to think that the situation they were in might be deadly until it was too late.

  
Their poor kimono...

  
They have other clothes back in their cabin, of course, but that’s not the point.

  
They find the inside pocket and retrieve their fan, paper chain, and extra origami paper. The pocket, made with a waterproof lining specifically in case a situation like this ever arose, has managed to keep their most important belongings safe from being destroyed, and for that, at least, they’re thankful. If they’d lost everything else too it would have been unbearable.

  
“Do you want to keep it?” Leorio asks softly. He’s crouching next to the bed, eye level with them, and the pity is clear on his face. “I can put it in a bag for you.”  
They shake their head. As much as it pains them to see it ruined, Illumi would only scorn them if they kept holding on it after it had outlived its usefulness. They’ll wear their extra clothes in the meantime, and Mother can make them a new one when they get home. It won’t be the same, of course, but they were starting to outgrow that one anyways. Its replacement was inevitable.

  
Still, their gut twists as Leorio takes the kimono and hands it off to another nurse, who disappears through the crowded hospital. Just like that, it’s gone.   
_Stop getting so sentimental,_ they chide themselves, _it’s just a piece of clothing._

 _  
_ “So,” Leorio says, forcing their attention back towards him. “I’m Leorio. Would you mind telling me your name?”

  
Of course they would mind. He doesn’t deserve to know anything about them, least of all their name, not after he stole Killua away from them. How dare he talk to them as though he’s anything but their enemy?

  
After a few seconds of silence, he asks, sounding tired, “Are you not talking to me now?”

  
They glare at him.

  
“Alright,” he sighs and gets to his feet, stretching like a massive cat. “Well, I’ve got other patients to tend to. But I’ll be back.”

  
  
True to his word, he returns several hours later, holding a tray of food. Kalluto, who had been staring at their paper chain and listening absentmindedly to Illumi talk to Machi (they’ve been listening for hours and he hasn’t mentioned their name once — not that they expected him to, really, but he doesn’t sound even a little bit worried) quickly shoves the chain underneath their blankets.

  
“What was that?” Leorio asks. After they don’t answer, he rolls his eyes and sets the tray down on their lap. “You must be hungry. Eat up.”

  
They glare at him for a couple of minutes, but he matches their gaze with a patient, unwavering stare, and they _are_ getting rather hungry.

  
Begrudgingly, they pick up the plastic fork and poke at the fruit cup sitting on the edge of the tray.

  
Leorio breaks out in a massive grin as they eat a forkful of orange. “That’s the spirit!”

  
They attempt a scowl as they shovel more fruit into their mouth, but Leorio just laughs at them.

  
“You’re so persistent,” he smiles. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me your name now?”

  
They swallow a gulp of mixed fruit and shake their head.

  
“Well, at least you’re responding to me,” he shrugs, “that’s progress, right?”

  
Whatever he wants to think. Even if he’s kind, even if he brought them fruit, they still don’t like him. They’re not gonna change their mind.

  
  
They sleep fitfully, dreaming of Illumi’s black hole eyes and Alluka’s laugh and Mother’s smile as she patted Kalluto on the head before they left to join the Phantom Troupe, smoothed down their hair and said, _Oh, my pretty little boy, you’re growing up so fast._

  
They dream of spiders, and of Killua. He’s running away from the house and they’re chasing after him, but he’s just a little too fast for them to keep up. Always out of reach.

  
“Kalluto!”

  
They jolt awake, reality flooding back to meet them. Their head aches and their body still hurts but even this is better than being left behind again.

  
They don’t dream often, but when they do, it’s always about Killua.

  
“Sorry,” Leorio says. He’s sitting at the end of the bed, holding another food tray — this one with a biscuit and jam and two more fruit cups. Breakfast food. How long has Kalluto been asleep? “Did I wake you up?”

  
“It’s fine,” they mumble sleepily, before remembering they’re not supposed to be talking to him.

  
It doesn’t go unnoticed. Leorio smiles goofily as he sets the tray in their lap and takes off the lid of the first fruit cup for them. “I guess you’re talking again, huh? I figured out your name, by the way, _Kalluto_.”

  
“How?” they ask, curious despite themselves. There’s no point in keeping up the silence now, anyways. After all, the only thing more pathetic than giving up at something is attempting to continue after you’ve already failed.

  
“I just searched up Zoldyck in the passenger directory,” he shrugs. “By the way, Illumi’s your older brother, right? The one with the long hair?”

  
They nod. So he knows Illumi by name. Killua told him about him, probably. But he didn’t mention them...

  
Whatever. It doesn’t matter.

  
It’s not like they’re as important as Illumi, anyways.

  
“Is he part of the Phantom Troupe too?” Leorio asks.

  
Kalluto nearly chokes on their fruit. Leorio leans over and pats them on the back as they cough, waiting until they’ve recovered to speak. “I saw the tattoo. And you’re so young...”

  
“I’m almost eleven,” they scowl at him.

  
“Yeah!” he insists, “That’s young! I don’t get this whole child assassin thing. I mean, honestly, you’re just a kid.”

  
“Of course you wouldn’t.” An outsider could never understand. The Zoldycks are the best at what they do, and it would be an insult to the family name for the children not to follow in their parents' footsteps. Kalluto was born and raised for this. If they weren’t an assassin, what would they do instead? This is the only thing they’re good at, and even so, they’re far from the best.

  
“Yeah,” Leorio smiles ruefully, “I guess so.”

  
  
After bullying the nurse who changes their IVs into giving them a pair of blunt craft scissors, Kalluto has begun making a Leorio doll. It’s not as well cut as the rest of their dolls — the craft scissors and their shaky hands are messing them up, and next to their chain of Troupe members he looks like something they would have made when they were five — but it’ll get the job done. After they finish making it all they have to do is tag Leorio, which shouldn’t be hard. Even Illumi hasn’t noticed that they’ve added him to their chain, and he’s far more capable than Leorio.

  
Speaking of Illumi, they’ve heard him mention them, finally. Although it barely counts as a mention at all, really...

  
_I haven’t seen Kalluto in a few days,_ Phinks had said earlier that morning, distracting Kalluto from Machi telling Shizuku about a weird guy she’d met on the fifth tier.

  
_Don’t worry about him,_ Illumi had replied disinterestedly. _I’m sure he’s lurking around here somewhere._

  
How long will they have to be gone for, they wonder, for Illumi to start caring that they’re missing? They’re proud, of course, that he’s so confident in their abilities that he’s not worried, but still, they’re far from fine, as much as they hate to admit it.

  
If they’d died back there like they were so sure they were going to, how long would it take for Illumi to care?

  
They don’t want to think about that, don’t want to think about how their body could be rotting in that hallway and their brother would be none the wiser, so they’re pouring all their energy into this Leorio doll instead.

  
They’re nearly finished. All they need is the face. Carefully, they cut out two rough eyes and a smile that ends up bigger than they mean it to.   
It looks pretty terrible, but it’ll get the job done. Now all they have to do is wait for Leorio to come back, and then they’ll know everything he gets up to.   
And speak of the devil, here he comes, pushing a big metal cart towards their bed.

  
“Hey, Kalluto,” he waves — he’s been making a point of using their name as often as possible. It’s infuriating. “I’ve gotta change your bandages. What’s that you’ve got there?”

  
Before they can say anything, he plucks the doll from their hands.

  
“Is this me?” he asks. Kalluto shrinks back against their pillows unconsciously, sure they’re gonna be in trouble. He might not know their ability, but he’s sure to suspect something.

  
But when he hands them back the doll, he’s... smiling? “This is awesome!”

  
Kalluto feels very shy all of a sudden. Of all the reactions they were expecting, this certainly wasn’t one of them. “Oh, it’s, um, it’s not that good,” they mumble, “I mean, I have other ones that are a lot better.”

  
“Like, you have them with you?” Leorio asks. “Can I see them?” 

  
He sounds so genuinely interested, so Kalluto finds themselves showing him the chain of Troupe members despite knowing that they shouldn’t. He looks at it for far longer than he needs to, examining every tiny detail of each doll.

  
“That’s really...wow,” he settles on as he hands it back. “You’re really talented, Kalluto.”

  
Are they? No one’s ever told them that before. Mother has always liked their art, but not in an appreciative way. It’s more that she expects them to make things for her and is pleased when they follow through. And when they’d told Illumi that they had come up with a nen ability, he hadn’t even looked at the dolls. All he said was,  _It’s about time._

  
“Thank you,” they say quietly.

  
Leorio looks absolutely taken aback. “You’re very welcome. I didn’t know you had manners.”

  
“Of course I do,” they grumble. “I just didn’t wanna waste them on you.”

  
“Well,” Leorio chuckles, taking a roll of bandages out of the cart, “I’m glad you changed your mind. Those dolls are seriously amazing. You’re a wonderful artist.”   
This is quite possibly more compliments than Kalluto has ever been given in their entire life. They’re not entirely sure how to deal with this, but they like it.   
“I can also do origami,” they say shyly. They’re not proud of themselves for fishing for more praise, but they can’t help it. They want someone else to like their art as much as they do.

  
“Really?” Leorio grins like a child. “Could you make me something?”

  
So while Leorio changes their bandages they make him things with the emergency origami paper from their kimono. They make him a couple of cranes because he insists that he wants to see them, a pig because he tells them his zodiac is the boar, and a frog just because they want to. When he’s done and piling their old bandages on the cart to bring to the trash, they give him all of the animals.

  
“Could you bring me more paper?” they ask. “I don’t have that much.”

  
“I’ll try to find you some,” he promises.

  
Kalluto thanks him, and he smiles widely and walks away with the origami creatures in the pocket of his scrubs.   
It’s only once he’s gone that Kalluto realizes they forgot to tag him.

  
  
They don’t see him for the next three days. Other nurses come and tend to them regularly, but they’re impatient and disgruntled and they never smile. The Leorio doll sits on the table next to their hospital bed, useless. As their health improves they become more and more restless. They’re no longer in constant pain but still unable to move, so they spend their days eavesdropping on the Troupe’s conversations and making origami with their limited supplies.

  
They make animals, unfold them, and make new ones until the paper becomes so crinkled it’s nearly useless. 

Illumi still isn’t worried about them. Phinks asks after them a couple more times. So do Machi and Nobunaga and Shizuku. But Illumi remains unconcerned.

  
  
In the middle of the fourth day, Leorio returns with a stack of printer paper and a lunch tray. 

“Sorry, it’s not proper origami paper,” he apologizes. “It was the best I could find.”

“It’ll work,” Kalluto tells him. “Thanks.”

“I like this new thing where you’re polite,” Leorio smiles. 

“I’ll have to stop doing it, then,” they grumble. They still don’t like him. No way. But he _is_ nice. Brotherly in the way that Killua was, that Illumi never is. 

“So, Kalluto,” Leorio says, opening their fruit cup for them even though they’re perfectly capable of doing it by themselves now. He sounds uncomfortable. Nervous, even. “I was looking at your chart, and you’re obviously nowhere near healed, but you’re gonna be able to leave in a couple weeks or so, and I was just wondering... well... I don’t know much about you, but I know your family and I know the Phantom Troupe and... if you don’t wanna go back to them you don’t have to.” 

“What?” Kalluto freezes, a forkful of fruit halfway to their mouth. 

“I just,” Leorio’s gaze shifts away from them. “I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to. But if you want to leave, you can.” 

“I don’t...” Kalluto puts down the fork and stares at him. He can’t be serious. Leave their family, the troupe, the only thing they’ve ever been good at? If they’re not a Zoldyck they’re not anything, and where does that leave them? They have to get stronger, they have to find Killua, they have to- 

“I’m sorry,” Leorio says, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Go away,” they snap. Their voice is shaking, vision growing blurry with tears threatening to spill over, but they’re not gonna cry. 

“I’ll leave you be,” Leorio tells them sadly. “Just.. think about it. Please.”  
They stay strong until he’s gone, blinking away tears, biting their bottom lip to keep from sobbing, and only once he’s disappeared do they burrow under the covers and cry. They haven’t cried since Killua left but they do now, angrily and silently. Of course Leorio would think it would be that simple, that they could just get up and walk away. He has no idea.

  
  
A week passes, and Kalluto gets stronger. They can leave the bed now, though only briefly — walking around for too long still makes their head spin. After several days of complaining about having their food brought to them, a nurse allows them to go to the cafeteria to eat, though they’re not allowed to go alone. 

Today, the nurse who accompanies them chides them when they fill their tray with nothing but fruit cups and strawberry milk. 

“You need to eat some protein if you want to recover,” she says cheerfully. “You’re a growing girl, after all.”

Kalluto activates their nen and glares at her with full force, and she backs off. 

They’re on their second fruit cup when they see Illumi, standing in the lunch line with Machi and Nobunaga. Their heartbeat quickens, but they force themselves to remain calm as they watch him get his lunch and sit down at a table not to far from their own. 

They eat the rest of their fruit cups deliberately slowly so that they can keep an eye on him. They’re not using their zetsu — he should spot them over here sooner or later. And then he’ll see them, injured and frail and covered in bandages, and he’ll realize that he should have worried about them. 

But he eats his lunch and he talks to Machi and Nobunaga and not once does he so much as glance in their direction. Angrily, bitterly, they activate their en — they’re not very good at it in the best of times and right now they’re hardly in top condition, but if they can get it close enough to him he’ll be bound to sense it, right?

He walks right by them as he leaves the cafeteria. He doesn’t even notice. 

Their last fruit cup tastes like ash in their mouth.

  
  
It’s been so long that most of the troupe are no longer tagged, and the paper chain isn’t of much use. They can still listen in on Feitan and Bonolevo but they never do anything interesting, so there’s really no point. In their anger, they rip Illumi’s doll from the chain and tear it into tiny pieces.   
It doesn’t make them feel any better.

  


When Leorio comes back at the end of the week, he sits down on the end of the bed and asks, “Did you think about it?”

“No,” Kalluto says flatly. They destroyed the rest of the dolls but before they did they heard one last bit of conversation that only fueled their anger. 

_Where is little one?_ Feitan had asked. 

_Illumi doesn’t want us to look for them,_ Phinks answered. _I guess they’ll come back on their own._

They ripped off Feitan’s head after hearing that, and not even on purpose. 

It’s insulting that the Troupe cares about them more than Illumi does, and even more insulting on top of that that they still don’t care _enough_. They’re injured, they nearly died, so why is no one looking for them? It’s not like they’re hiding, it’s not like they’re trapped in here with no way to let anyone know where they are, they’re begging to be found. 

And Illumi still isn’t hearing them. 

“Well, I called Killua,” Leorio says. This gets Kalluto’s interest even though they don’t want it to. As much as they want to hear anything relating to Killua, him saying that is like salt in an open wound. Of course he would call him, of course he would be so casual about it, of course he hasn’t spent his entire life fighting for attention but being so fiercely ignored. 

Leorio’s expression softens — he seems to have realized he struck a nerve — but he plows onward anyways. “He said that you could travel with him and Alluka when we get back from the Dark Continent, if you want.” 

Ignoring the fact that he’s traveling with Alluka because of course he is, because of course he loves her even though she’s cursed and weak and obviously inferior, Kalluto can’t help but get excited at the thought of that. Could they really see Killua? After all this searching, all this training, it couldn’t possibly be that easy... could it? 

“You’re lying.” Kalluto decides, an easy conclusion to settle on. Leorio knows exactly what to say to get them to stay here. They’re not going play into his hands just because they’re angry and lonely and unappreciated. 

“I’m... jeez, you’re really stubborn, aren’t you?” Leorio sighs, running a hand through his hair. “What if I got him on the phone for you? Would you believe me then?” 

“...Fine,” Kalluto scowls defiantly. He’s lying, so it won’t matter either way, right?

  
  
An hour later, Leorio runs up to them with a cell phone and shoves it into their hand, making them drop their half folded origami frog. 

“Here,” he announces triumphantly. 

Kalluto is taken aback — they hadn’t expected him to return so soon, and to be so confident at that. Is it possible that he really did mean what he said? 

Cautiously, they hold the phone up to their ear. They brace themselves, not expecting anything, but still, though they try not to, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they really will hear Killua. 

“Hey, Leorio,” an impatient voice crackles through the tiny speaker, “where’d you go? C’mon old man, I haven’t got all day-”

“Killua?” Kalluto asks. Their voice is barely a whisper, scared to speak, terrified that if they do he’ll get away from them again. Because it really is him, his voice, even though it’s deeper and distorted by the phone. He’s really _there_. 

“Oh! Kalluto! Hey!” Kalluto can barely contain themself at the sound of their name coming from his mouth. It’s been so long since a family member said their name without it sounding like an inconvenience. “Leorio told me you were in the hospital, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” they answer — hardly the truth, but they don’t wanna be annoying, “I’m fine.”

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

“Okay,” Killua says, though he sounds unconvinced. “Well, um, I told Leorio this already, but if you wanna hear it from me, I know Illumi’s got you stuck there with him, but if you feel like ditching him, we’ve got room for you here.” 

“Y-you really mean it?” Kalluto stammers. This is too much to hope for — that Killua would come to them, that he would want to. Every version of their plan to get Killua back involves forcing him to see that they’re worth his time, but for him to be willing to take them as they are... 

“Of course,” he says. He sounds stronger, more confident, more _whole_. 

Leorio is watching them and Killua is waiting patiently on the other end and this is all too good to be true. They would say it feels like a dream, but even in their dreams, they could never imagine that it would be as easy as this. 

To think that Killua would want to see them... it’s an impossible fantasy but it’s one that’s coming true before their eyes. 

“Kalluto?” Killua asks, “You still there?” 

“Yeah!” they answer hurriedly. “Yeah, I, um, I would like that. To see you, I mean.”

“Great!” Kalluto is so excited they can barely stand it — this is real, this is happening, Killua really wants to be with them. “Alluka’s also here.” His tone grows threatening as he adds, “That’s not gonna be a problem, is it?”

“No,” they answer truthfully. They’d much rather have Killua to themselves, but after everything he’s already given them today, they suppose they can share. 

“Okay, cool,” Killua sounds pleased with their response. “Well, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll see you soon I guess?”

“Yeah,” Kalluto beams, “see you soon.”

As they hand the phone back to Leorio they glance over at the pieces of the Illumi doll, still sitting on the bedside table. Maybe sometime before they reach their destination he’ll finally realize that they’re not coming back and he’ll come looking for them. Or maybe not. 

They don’t care either way. Somewhere out across the ocean, Killua is waiting for them, and that’s all that really matters.

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked this fic check out my other ones or follow me on tumblr @boyfriem


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